Tears Are Not Enough Novels & Stories

I didn’t respond because I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. They finished and people began to leave one by one until it was just me standing there in front of the fresh earth, I stared at it. Then finally something cracked in me and my breath left me and before I could stop it a tear slipped down my face the another then more. I didn’t wipe them away or hide it because there was no one left to see. “I’m trying,” I whispered. My voice barely audible. “I really am.” But it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing did.

I immediately rushed to wipe it off but she shook her head. "Contrary to what everyone says, tears are not a sign of weakness. Instead it only means that you feel things deeply. Your life has not been the most perfect the past few years and only the blind would pretend like it didn't hurt him." Her words continued to stretch into my heart, twisting and turning, almost as though I was before a surgeon who was making a new heart.

She pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to muffle her sobs, her emotions threatening to consume her. In the quiet solitude of the bathroom, her tears fell like rain. It was as if each tear held the weight of her fears, her regrets, and the overwhelming uncertainty that now hung over her future. She sank to the bathroom floor, her back against the wall, as the reality of her situation crashed down upon her.

a tear cold down my left cheekbone, “I can't fail you, that's the truth.” I opened my vision, wiping my cheek. Throughout my entire life I have cried rarely and it is not that I considered crying to be a weak gesture. But because I have promised myself to shed tears for the right people. Tears are not always synonymous with sadness, because even when we are happy we cry, thanks to them we know that we are alive and that we have feelings. Tears are the manifestation of the soul through the eyes. “Big dad, if you can hear me, I need you to tell me if I'm doing the right thing, send me a sign.”

It was as if the act of crying was merely a reflex, my heart not truly feeling the depth of sadness for Vincent's death. "I am not in mourning," I declared to Aaron, my voice steady, although the tears continued to cascade down my cheeks. "I am not crying because Vincent is dead.” I reached up to wipe my eyes, but the tears persisted, defying my feeble attempts to halt their descent. "No," I shook my head. "It is not as simple as that. My tears do not stem from sorrow. They are... they are merely a reaction to the realization that everything has finally reached its end."

Then tears streamed down her stunning face. A gasp escaped Fiona’s lips, and her eyes were wide in disbelief at the cruelty of Preston leaving his new bride alone at Home Affairs. Fiona hugged her best friend tightly with tears brimming in her eyes and said, “I am so sorry, my dearest Brooklyn. Preston doesn’t deserve you. Why didn’t you call me after that heartless man abandoned you? I would have come and picked you up.”

I cried about that too. "Maybe that's why I can't cry for mommy. I've spent all the tears on you there's nothing left in the reserve." I laugh like it's the funniest thing on earth. "I wish tears could bring people from the dead. I'd have cried so much my eyeballs would pop out of their sockets." My eyes roll behind my head and I pass out. Cause of death : Despair and anguish.

She didn’t cry. At some point, the production of tears stopped completely. Her tear glands had been overused countless times over the past three days. The remaining tears were barely enough to moisten the mucous membranes at the bottom of her eyes. Her nose wasn’t sore anymore, the discomfort in her throat had gone away, and the muscles in the back of her neck had relaxed.

The tears spill before I can stop them—hot, helpless. “That’s why I told you to leave me alone,” I manage, my voice raw and thin. Lior sighs, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “And how do you expect me to do that? Look at you, Lila. You’re crying. And you expect me to just walk away and pretend it’s nothing? You know I can’t do that.” I blink through tears, my shoulders trembling. “That’s exactly why you should stay away,” I snap. “Because how I feel—or why I’m crying—shouldn’t mean anything to you.”

He thought of everything. The tears come up so quick they’re not even tears yet—just that burn in the nose, the way your chest goes hot and hollow at the same time. I press my knuckles to my mouth and breathe through it. I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because someone showed up and didn’t make me feel smaller for needing them.